The Cat That Got The Cream (cakes)
by buddieswithbilis
Summary: Just a little Christmas fluff.


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A/N : Sod canon. Sod time lines. It's Christmas and that calls for a little fluff!

Disclaimer : Anything Torchwood related belongs to Kris Kringle and the Reindeer Corporation. (It was a joke, okay? Season of goodwill and all that, so please don't sue me.)

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The Cat That Got The Cream (Cakes?)

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"Here you go, Jack. All done."

Waiting for his reply Gwen proudly waved the handful of graphs out to the side of the workstation but realising that she wasn't about to get an answer anytime soon she looked up, disappointed, from what she was reading and held the sheets a little higher.

"Jack? I've got those comparisons you asked me for. Where the bloody hell are you, you bugger? I thought you said it was important."

This was the first time Jack had let her anywhere near Toshs' equipment and in an eagerness to impress she'd managed to accomplish the task he'd set for her without any 'major' data disappearing from the screen.

Okay, yes, admittedly, despite it being quite important it had actually taken her nearly seven hours to compile the information for him, but she'd actually managed to bloody do it. And she was going to get some credit for it if it killed her.

Promising faithfully to be back just after Christmas Tosh herself had been holed up in Japan for nearly two weeks and as a direct result all hacking and graph analysis had been left down to Jack.

Initially he'd been quite enthusiastic about getting his teeth into something a little different for a change and for the first two days, and with everything being a bit of a novelty for him, he'd irritated the hell out of the rest of them by using the phrase 'I don't like to blow my own trumpet, kids, but….' (whilst he was actually blowing his own trumpet, of course) on several occasions. But they'd started to sense that the inevitable boredom might finally have started to set in when, on day three, he'd begun to make references to blowing Ianto's trumpet rather than his own.

So, with their new, 'quote' … ' fifty first century technical genius' … 'unquote', back to (drinking coffee and devouring donuts in his office) normal, unless something had appeared to be a matter of life or death, all hacking and graph analysis had come to a complete standstill. Still, at least, for now, one of them had found the patience to sit in front of her screens and attempt something useful.

Ianto, in his efficient and methodical way, would normally have loaned his talents to this noble cause but for the last two weeks, thoroughly engrossed in cataloguing a hoard of alien treasures from an as yet unidentified pirate ship, he'd hidden himself away down in the archives. The only time he'd appeared for any longer than it took to make them all a coffee was when they'd had to respond to an alert and he was safe in the knowledge that with all of them out of the way he'd be manning the fort on his own.

Assuming that he was simply just trying to avoid the trauma of having his trumpet blown in front of his colleagues Gwen and Owen had spared him the third degree.

So, as it stood, with Ianto entombed in his own little Aladdins' cave and Owen insisting that he really had much more serious (porn related) work to attend to it had now been left down to Gwen to try and make sense of spikes both large and small.

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"Jack…." . . she called out again as she shook the sheets vigorously and, in her exasperation, stood up to see where he was.

A second later he appeared, just a little too nonchalantly for her liking, from the depths of Ianto's grotto and made his way over to her

"There you go, Jack. What did I tell you?" . . as she sat down again her face broke into a self-satisfied smile and she gestured to the reports with a nod . . "I'm bloody brilliant, I am."

She beamed proudly at him as he walked towards her, acknowledging her remark with a nod and impressed smile of his own.

Well, she assumed it was meant to be a smile because the more she studied him the more convinced she became that he was, in fact, either confused or had wind. And as, so far (give it time), no rasping noises or unpleasant smells had drifted over from his direction she was putting all of her faith her first guess (but as an afterthought she held her breath just in case).

As he moved closer, edging around the workstations to get to her, she knew instinctively that something wasn't quite right. It was Christmas and to Jack Christmas was all about broad grins and hints about kissing under mistletoe or putting something in your stocking, not tight lipped smiles and pained expressions.

As he drew up next to her she chanced a breath and was relieved to find no obvious sign of lingering odours emanating from him . . "What's up with you?" . . she peered up at him and tried to narrow her eyes suspiciously . . "Ianto put you on rations again, has he?"

He shook his head slowly and tried to smile at her again. His lips were still pinched into a thin line and as he averted his gaze she knew for certain that he was hiding something.

"Okay, come on, Harkness. Spill ….." . . if possible her Welsh tones harshened further as she frowned . . "Come on, Jack, I know when you've been up to no good, you can never look me in the bloody eye."

He shook his head again to plead his innocence.

"Oh, I get it. You're not talking to me again, is that it? Still sulking are we?" . . she sat back, defensively folding her arms . . "Look, if you're still annoyed about the 'kick me' sign I told you yesterday, it wasn't me it was O…."

As he nudged her aside to reach for a pen she craned her neck to see the first of two words being scribbled onto one of Toshs' purple 'post-it' notes.

She squinted as she tried to make out the spidery scrawl . . "Some thirst?"

He snorted a huff down at her and reached out for the pen again. Her wide eyes revolved in circles as she watched the biro move more slowly and purposefully . . "Oh. Sore throat. Well why didn't you just say so?"

He re-adopted his now customary pained expression and stabbed at his Adams apple.

"Oh, come on, Jack, I get that you think I'm just some silly girl from the depths of the Welsh valleys, but even I know that when you've got a sore throat you can still speak."

He shook his head again and wrote . . '_it's really, really bad'._

"Oh, hold on a minute, I know what this is …." . . as she laughed loudly the cute gap that he normally adored so much was displayed and she fell back in her seat nodding, convinced she was right . . "You've been snacking on those bloody sweets that came through the rift last week, haven't you. That'll teach you, you greedy bugger."

The frustrated frown and sagging shoulders were enough to blow that theory out of the water.

Not about to let this go until she got herself a satisfactory answer, she opened her mouth to ask another question.

Mouth half open her gaze suddenly shot up as she realised that Ianto was standing there, just staring at her, with that unreadable expression of his.

Chillingly, he had this uncanny knack of just being there in front of you all of a sudden, like some bloody changing room character out of Mr Ben (but without the outfits). You'd look up and 'bam', there he was, fixing you with those steely eyes and sometimes with a smile that made you think of chianti and fava beans.

Today was no exception, accept that today, and giving him even more the appearance of a cartoon character, he was holding a miniature silver and green Christmas tree in one hand and a sprig of plastic holly in the other.

"You found it, then?" . . she nodded over at the small decorative fir in his right hand.

"No," . . nobody, but nobody, deadpanned quite like operative Jones. . . "Actually, I've just got back from Norway. It took me ages to chop this one down and even longer to get it in through customs."

Her brows knitted and, distracted from him for a second, she glanced at Jack who had decided to perch his unforgivably enticing backside on the edge of Toshs' desk. She considered that if she were to roll slightly forwards on her wheels it might just come within touching distance and, if she was being honest, that was just a little too close to expect her to keep her thoughts on the decent side of Godly.

"Yeah, okay, Ianto, it was a stupid question." . . she finally admitted, acknowledging his sarcasm with a nod . . "So, where were you thinking of putting it, then? Or is that another stupid question?"

"You mean other than up the darkened depths that pose rather unconvincingly as Owens backside?" . . he made one thrusting movement with the imitation pine and managed to appear just a little too genuine.

She leaned back in her chair laughing loudly . . "Yeah, okay then, other than the bleedin' obvious."

"Actually," . . he rotated the tree, inspecting it as if it might turn into something a whole lot more exciting at any moment . . "I thought I might sit it in the corner of the autopsy bay, you know, cheer up the stiffs a little." . . he winked at her then smirked as he watched Jack quietly shake his head at the remark.

"Oh, good call, Ianto." . . she over accentuated her nod, deliberately trying to antagonise the man frowning next to her . . "Even that mangled mess down there is entitled to a little Christmas cheer. Which reminds me, where is the good doctor? That body's been down there for hours now, it's gonna start smelling soon if we're not careful."

Disassociating himself firmly from all responsibility Ianto shook his head at her . . "He didn't say where he was going. But I did tell him to put it back in the fridge before he left."

"So why didn't he?"

"He said the salad draw was full and he couldn't quite squeeze it in next to the milk."

"He's an idiot, that boy." . . she shook her head grinning.

He looked almost disdainful as he admitted . . "Wasn't exactly the first description that popped into my mind, but, there you go. Anyway …" . . he switched to butler mode . . "…. Coffee?"

Her frame sagged as she gave a loud sigh . . "Mr Jones you are a Christmas angel." . . she nudged Jack with her elbow . . "Isn't he, Jack. An angel, eh?"

Ianto waited for the predictable quip about him being a devil between the sheets or that he was still alive but drop dead gorgeous but after five seconds of Jack still not turning back with even a teasing flick of one brow he looked at Gwen to raise both of his own.

"Oh, don't mind him …." . . she waved a dismissive hand through the air . . "Our great and fearless leader's got a sore throat, he has."

"He's probably been eating those boiled sweets that came through last week" . . he decided.

"Tried that one …" . . she laughed rocking forward on her chair . . "He's denying it."

He mouthed a silent 'oh' at her before asking just a little too loudly . . "JACK? DO YOU STILL WANT A COFFEE?"

As the man himself stared balefully down at her Gwen tried to contain her giggles . . "Ianto, sweetheart, the last time I heard it was a sore throat that he was suffering from, not a sudden bout of deafness."

"Well coffee might ease the sore throat, he should try one."

Still with the holly in his hand with the tips of his fingers he tried to splay out the branches of the tree and, indignantly managing to keep the chastised frown from his face, chose to ignore her tittering.

Predictably, Jack was still saying nothing. Gwen poked him in the ribs . . "Jack, go on, have a coffee, he might be right."

"Nnnnnnnn Hnnnnnn …"

"Um, sorry, Jack; didn't quite catch that." . . Ianto looked up from the tree as he delivered his mildly sarcastic comment and, already forgiving her her previous remark, sent Gwen another wink.

"I think he said no thanks." . . she offered him with a shrug.

Jack gave one firm nod down at her then went back to studying the graphs.

"Right, then, coffee for two it is ….." . . Ianto, ( once again in one of those 'one minute he's there, next minute he's not', moments) quickly disappeared in search of some beans.

Jack edged further back on to the workstation and began to flick through the sheets.

"So, what do you think?" . . Gwen strained up to see how far he'd got through them and smiled hopefully . . "Have I done ok?"

He nodded, brows lifting.

She took this as a sign of encouragement as normally her first attempt at anything Torchwood related tended to waver on the brink of being 'mildly haphazard', even crossing over occasionally into the 'positively life-threatening'.

"Owen'll be back soon" . . she told him leaning back on her chair . . "If you really feel that bad perhaps he should take a quick look at you?"

"Hnnnnnnn …." . . he shrugged, apparently not all that bothered.

"Oh, by the way ….." . . Ianto's voice drifted across from the inside of the corpse-free fridge . "I think I might have forgotten to mention that I brought cream cakes in today."

"Okay, it's official, Ianto, you are an angel." . . Gwen patted Jack on the knee, keen to emphasise her point.

As he shifted his gaze from the graphs to scowl at her she scolded . . "Now, look, Jack, I don't care how much of a bad mood you're in today, I'm telling you now. That boy? He's an angel, he is!"

The look of contempt and sarcastic snort took her by surprise. Normally Jack would be the first to agree with such an observation about his favourite archivist (coffee-god, colleague, un-admitted partner, not concealed in the slightest way whatsoever lover) but as he stared unimpressed down at her she assumed he was just in a bad mood because of his bad throat and let it go.

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"Here we go then …" . . smiling, Ianto walked over to them with a large white cardboard box in his hands . . "As promised, cream cakes and the coffee's on its way"

He leaned towards the desk slightly and let a small pile of cardboard plates and napkins slide off of the top of the box then lifting the lid offered the first choice to Gwen.

"Ooooh, Ianto, love." . . she peered in and gave him a smile . . "My favourite …." . . licking her lips she plucked an apple and cream Danish from the selection.

Ianto picked out his own choice and closing the lid told her . . "I've left Owen's in there, he should be back anytime now."

"Ok, sweetheart." . . she smiled and sucked on her fingers.

"I've left yours in the fridge, Jack." . . he licked at the cream trying to escape from between the layers of his iced slice.

Not bothering to look up Jack merely gave a silent flick of his head as an acknowledgement.

Ianto pulled one of his 'was it something I said?' faces at Gwen causing her to cover her grin with a napkin.

Knowing he couldn't be seen he smiled deliberately at the top of Jacks head as he skirted around him to get to the couch.

The Captains raised his eyes and they followed his every step, narrowing slightly as he finally fell down with a thud.

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As a flash of light and wail of proximity alarm announced his arrival Owen waited for the gap to become just big enough to squeeze through then eagerly made his way in past the cogged wheel.

The others looked up to see him banging his arms around his body and as he acknowledged them with a nod he gave a loud shiver . . "It's like the ruddy Arctic out there, even the bloody seagull shit is coming out like ice cream."

"Welcome to winter in Wales …" . . Ianto looked up with a mouthful of cake and smiled at him.

"Of course, if you were to eat a bit more grub and put some meat on those bones of yours you wouldn't feel the cold so much." . . watching him rub his hands together as he shivered up the steps Gwen thought she might try the motherly approach.

He leaned down to face level . . "There's only one place I wanna be putting my meat, darlin'."

His familiar and cocky grin spread from ear to ear but unsure of how to react herself, she just shot her eyes wide open and took a distracting bite of her cake.

Seeing her response he leaned in again to whisper . . Not like you to be shy, Gwen." . . and laughed quietly at her as she looked away to hide the fact that she was smiling.

With a groan he straightened and looked around at them all . . "God, it's like a bloody morgue in here, what's with the whole 'uncomfortable silence' thing?"

Jack all but glared at him and his mouth dropped open . . "Oh, shit, has somebody snuffed it?"

"There's a cake in that box for you." . . completely ignoring his question on the grounds that it was, in fact, stupid and that; totally un-bereaved, and without a single tear being shed between them, they were all sitting there munching on cream cakes Ianto licked his way around all four edges of his cream slice before adding . . "I'll just finish this and then I'll get the coffees."

Out of the corner of his eye Jack watched on as he licked very slowly and deliberately at some cream then smiled up at him.

"Oh, great, nice one, tea-boy." . . Owen reached over for the box.

With Gwen watching him the medic licked his lips at her . . "I take it Captain Manners over there has already eaten his at the speed of light."

Jack ignored the taunt but, with what was left of his cake half way into his mouth, Iantos lips began to curl at the corners.

"Actually, no, he hasn't." . . Gwen looked over at him to mumble through a mouthful of cream . . "He's got a sore throat."

"Has he now?" . . he watched as a blob of dairy goodness began to slide its way over her chin and tried very hard to keep his filthy thoughts in check. As she snaked out her tongue to quickly lick it away he heard himself squeak . . "A sore throat, you say?"

She nodded and noticing that some cream had escaped from the far end of her pastry she innocently dipped the tip of her tongue into it.

"Yes, well ….." . . he cleared his throat noisily . . "If my memory serves me correctly, those fifty first century genes of his prevent him from suffering in the same way as we mere mortals do. So I'm afraid, Gwen, it can't be a sore throat. My guess is he's sulking about something."

"Oh yeah, that's a point." . . she turned to look up at the man who she now remembered was not only immortal but continuously germ free . . "You can't stay ill, can you…" . . she looked at Owen and then back up at her boss . . "Okay, come on, out with it. Why have you been bloody lying to me, Jack?"

Jack glared at Ianto. Ianto grinned up at him and took another bite of cake.

"Ok, you two" . . she stood up and glanced back at Owen for support . . "What's going on?"

Looking down at the graphs Jack sniffed in a deep breath through his nose and shrugged.

"Well, I think you'd better let me take a look at you anyway." . . Owen slipped his choux bun back into the box and stepped over to him . . "Come on, say aaaah ….."

Jack shook his head and at the same time firmly pushed him away.

"Oi, '_Captain_'." . . he tried again, only this time with noisy vocal accentuations . . "as your '_doctor_' I am '_insisting'_ that you let me take a look at you."

Glaring at him Jack gave a desperate squeak of . . "Hmm Hmmmmm…."

"I think he said I'm fine." . . offered Gwen.

A sudden and abrupt snorting sound drew their attention to the couch where, with the last of his cake completely filling his mouth, Ianto was blinking back tears.

"Alright, you two, what's going on?" . . Looking at them both in turn Owen took a step back and folded his arms.

Jack dropped his chin to his chest to avoid eye contact and let an exasperated burst of air leave his nostrils.

"Gwen, did he actually tell you that he's got a sore throat?" . . Now completely convinced that a joke was being played on them the medic turned to look at her.

"Well, no, actually, he wrote it down."

"Okaaaaay." . . he 'hmmd' and tapped at his chin a couple of times as he made his diagnosis . . "Right, Jack. Open wide."

Rather predictably Jack shook his head.

Now even more determined than ever that he was going to get an answer Owen stepped forward and as Jack's face drew nearer he tried to ignore the worrying urge that he had to kiss him, sore throat or not.

He'd anticipated that Jack's lips (far too goddamned sexy as they sat there pursed and begging for it) might prove to be slightly distracting for him but what he hadn't banked on was what caught his attention next and leaning in just that little bit more he gave a quick sniff before snapping upright to peer accusingly over at Ianto.

Although now silent, the palms covering his face and shoulders shaking heavily suggested that the Welshman was hardly an innocent bystander in all of this.

As Jack stared directly at him Owen leaned in again and, just to confirm that in not giving in to his urges he'd actually had one hell of a lucky escape, took a deeper sniff.

"Oh, you have got to be fucking kidding me!" . . he was choking loudly as he took a step back and his features contorted in disgust.

Ianto made a vain attempt at his usually incredibly convincing poker face but as Jack glared down at him his right cheek twitched just twice before he admitted defeat and blatantly laughed directly up at him.

"Would somebody mind letting me in on the joke?"

As Gwen folded her arms, waiting for an explanation, Jack flicked his head sideways to imply she might like to consult Ianto before inflicting herself on anyone else.

"Ianto?" . . She peered around Jack to stare down at him . . "What the hell's going on? Have you two been having a laugh at my expense again?"

Wiping his eyes he managed to strain out . . "Tosh is on holiday"

"And that's worth peeing your pants for, is it?"

He looked up at Jack who gave one nod that he might as well continue.

"I forgot she wasn't here."

"So?"

"I got her a cake by mistake…"

"So?"

"So, Jack decided that as he's the boss he should be allowed to eat her cake as well."

"Nothing unusual there."

"Well, no" . . he agreed . . "But I decided that as it's Christmas, if he really wanted it, he had to make a special effort and prove to me that he really deserved it."

"So what did you come up with?" . . still not grasping why Owen was standing there shaking his head at her she began to feel as if she was actually the butt of this joke.

He slid an arm around her shoulders . . "Oh, come on Gwen. What do you think could possibly have come up if those two were within touching distance of each other?"

"Yeah, okay, Owen, I'm not stupid. But what's that got to do with this, though?" . . she made to sit down but jumped out of her skin as Jack, sounding like he'd finally lost the plot, began to make a peculiar whining sound, one, in fact, not too dissimilar to that of Janet when Owen had tried to force feed her tapioca that time as an experiment. It had been a stupid idea and in having tried it, just the once mind, Ianto had guessed that even a weevil would be hard pushed to stomach frogs spawn in a milky base.

As the whining died down and, adopting his roof-top pose, Jack hitched his brows angrily in anticipation at him, Ianto pushed himself up from the couch then reached into his pocket to pull out his stop watch.

Jack whined again, though this time Gwen thought he sounded more like a scolded puppy.

"Fifteen seconds, Sir."

Jack's whole body sagged in relief.

"But don't forget, Jack, I need to see some evidence."

The others looked on, nodding in time with him as he counted down . . "Five four three two one" . . then he depressed the button with a click . . "Come on then, let's see how you've done."

There was this low growling noise, unearthly in its resonance, then in a flash Jack launched himself over the coffee table to send Ianto flying backward onto the couch.

He squealed like a girl as he was taken off of his feet and with the stopwatch still in one hand he used his other to try to push Jack away from him.

Jack was quick. His face remained pinched in determination as he struggled to manoeuvre them both around and with a loud grunt of triumph he finally managed to straddle Ianto. With a knee braced on either side he sat down heavily onto the Welshman's 'special bits' and made sure that his weight prevented him from going anywhere.

Owen stepped over and prising the watch from Ianto's fingers looked down with a gasp . . "He can't have been doing this for thirty minutes. How can anyone not swallow for half a bloody hour?"

Ianto began to struggle again and trying another tactic Jack grasped him firmly by the chin and twisted his head around so that they were face to face. IsHH

The tea-boy kept his lips firmly clamped together but as his suit jacket fell open Jack quickly jabbed the fingers of his left hand into some conveniently exposed ribs and his consequent cry of pain caused his mouth to fly open.

In an instant Jack was forcing his fingers between his teeth and after prising his lips apart he leaned over him. Making sure they were perfectly aligned he gave a low chuckle at the back of his throat before slowly opening his mouth.

Coming from a grown man the resulting squeal was a tad on the embarrassing side, especially when you considered that he caught aliens for a living and as one strand after another of a pearlescent liquid drizzled down into his mouth his cry of fear was replaced by a horrified . . "Eeuurrgghh."

"Oh my God that is disgusting!" . . Gwen looked like she'd been sucking on a lemon.

"Well, that's one way of putting me off my food." . . abandoning his morning elevenses Owen dropped his choux pastry back into the box.

As the 'sharing' ceremony continued neither of the men on the couch was even faintly aware of the complaints being made against them and the slow (and very necessary) 'make-up' snogging session that they were now engaged in was far too much of a distraction for them to be worrying about what unfortunate effects they might be having on everybody else.

"How did he manage not to swallow?" . . Gwen was repeatedly performing a swallowing action herself.

"God, knows." . . Owen shook his head over at the pair as, with lips still locked together and oblivious to the rest of the world, they were both sighing appreciatively . . "Probably something to do with the fifty-first century, it usually is." . . he decided.

"Mmm? Oh, yeah." . . as she nodded slowly she was transfixed by her two friends . . "Or it could be that thing, you know, like that key thing that Hart did."

"What?" . . he gave a brief demonstration by inserting his fingers into his mouth . . "That old Artesian trick? Nah, I can't see it being that. I reckon Jack's got this little pocket at the front of his throat especially evolved for storing fluids."

"Now there's a lovely thought." . . the look on her face disagreed totally.

"Tell you what, Gwen, hows about we go down to my medical bay and carry out some important research of our own on the matter?" . . with his wide trademark grin firmly in place he was clearly assuming that his suggestion would be greeted as a completely unreasonable one.

"All in the name of science, eh, Owen?" . . strangely, her smile was forced and sarcastic.

"Suit yourself." . . he sounded defeated yet not totally unsurprised . . "But it's your loss darlin' …. I've been told mine's pretty sweet."

As she pulled a face at him a deep growl came from the direction of the couch . . "Right, Mr Jones. _Now_ can I have my cakes?"

"Of course, Sir."

As they remained rooted to the spot, still staring at one another, Ianto was the first to smile . . "But you might find that you need to let me up first."

Reluctantly, and after one final peck, Jack climbed off of him and pulled him up to join him.

"I'll just go and get them then, shall I?"

As he walked away straightening his clothing Ianto heard Jack's voice call out from behind . . "Don't think this little game is over, Ianto. I'll get my own back tonight."

Without turning, his face broke into a grin . . "We'll see, Sir. We'll see…"

He carried on in the direction of the kitchen area.

"Oh, and Ianto."

"Yes, Sir?" . . He stopped again and waited.

"Don't think I'd go doing that for just anybody."

"No, Sir." . . knowing this to be true he did indeed feel truly honoured as he carried on with his journey to the fridge.

"Oh, Ianto."

"Yes, Sir?" . . he was trying very hard not to show how delighted he was that Jack was displaying the same camaraderie that he normally only indulged in once they were alone.

"You can consider that an early Christmas present."

"Yes, Sir." . . as an overwhelming sense of anticipation swept over him he felt unable to move from the spot. Jack often teased him with this little stop start game of theirs and usually in finishing would remind him of something very important.

Although Ianto didn't dare hope that this would be the case on this occasion, still, with his heart in his mouth, he waited with baited breath.

"And Ianto …"

His heart missed a beat at the familiar change in tone and spinning slowly on the balls of his feet he lowered his voice to a barely a whisper . . "Yes, Jack?"

"Merry Christmas, Ianto."

As Jack smiled softly over at him he witnessed a tenderness that very few people ever got to see.

In sharing this moment with them Gwen and Owen had simply heard a grateful boss, at the end of a very long year, passing on his seasonal greetings to a deserving employee.

But as he'd seen that look from Jack and knowing that he'd meant so much more Ianto had heard three entirely different words and veiled in its Yuletide shroud the declaration that Jack normally reserved for the most private of moments was received as it was intended.

Without hesitation he returned the look and with a hushed . . "Merry Christmas, Jack." . . he sent the same special message straight back to him.

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twtwtwtwtwtwtwtwtwtwtwtwtwtw twtw

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A few days later …..

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"As brief as always, I take it." . . Gwen lifted the small, formal card with its snowy landscape scene from Jack's desk and read the message she found inside out loud . . "To Jack from Ianto." . . she put it back down with a toothy smile . . "Truly heartfelt."

Jack inclined his head as he smiled up at her and in a deliberate manner turned the card around so that the picture was facing him again . . "He always says just what's needed, nothing more, our Ianto."

"That's why Owen's says bah humbug you miserable bastard, is it?" . . she laughed over her shoulder as she stepped out onto the gantry.

Jack grinned and watched her as she walked away laughing her head off.

Picking up the small card again he re-read the succinct message before letting out a soft breath of amusement and re-siting it next to his pen holder.

Outside his office he could hear the familiar and tantalising hiss of the coffee machine as its operative strangled a magical brew from it and knew that very soon the wonderful aroma of roasted beans would be accompanied by a vision of pure delight; a Christmas Angel in a suit. His Christmas Angel.

He'd sworn that he'd never allow himself to fall in love again, convinced himself that there'd never be anybody special enough worth enduring all of that heartbreak and pain for. But Ianto Jones had well and truly stolen his heart and to know that he was loved just as much in return made each day with this Welshman the most wonderful that he'd ever known.

As the clank of metal echoed around the hub his wistful smile spread into a broad grin and in a move which had become something of an hourly ritual over the past two days he opened his top drawer and pulled free a home-made Christmas card.

Obviously crafted with a great deal of affection, on the front of it there was a pen drawing of a small tabby kitten. With a pom-pom adorned Santa hat perched between its ears, its small red tongue was licking at its whiskers and one eye was closed in a wink.

Wondering how many other hidden talents Ianto might have waiting to be discovered Jack opened up the thin piece of card and although the message was now firmly ingrained in his memory, with a glow spreading through him, he read it once more.

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To

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The cat that got the 'cream'

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Always and forever yours

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Merry Christmas

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Love from

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The man who truly does have everything

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x x x

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Yep, he thought to himself; that was his Ianto, the man who always said just what was needed, nothing more.

He kissed the card then slid it from sight for another hour and sat back to wait for his mug of nectar. A second later the sound of footsteps outside caused his heart to skip a beat. No guesses who this might be.

Thankfully, so far, the coming week appeared to be prediction free and he had a feeling that this year they were going to have a brilliant Christmas. It wouldn't be their first together, but it was going to be their best, he was going to make damn sure of that: snuggling up on his bunk, the heart-warming aroma of coffee with cinnamon sprinkles, a choir crackling out Silent Night from his old gramophone, lips pressed tenderly together beneath some mistletoe ….. that's what Christmas was all about.

But beyond all of that, beyond all of the tinselled superficiality and the memories of traditions long forgotten, there was something far more important to be grateful for, and that being, the gift of the past precious twelve months in the company of his 'angel'. Another whole year with his guardian as he'd looked after him and loved him without question.

He'd had very little to be grateful for in this never ending life of his, but Ianto Jones was the one thing that he would truly be eternally grateful for.

Snow and frozen lakes, baubles and presents, Christmas morning and the sound of children laughing.

Jack loved Christmas.

But beyond that ….

He loved Ianto Jones.

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TWTWTWTWTWTWTWTWTWTW

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Fin.

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Merry Christmas everybody. And a very Happy (and lucky!) 2013. ….. Bwb..x.

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End file.
